Fig wasps and dogs

An early version of something I started on this evening , by no means finished so I know it's not tight but would welcome thoughts on the feeling particularly the tonal shifts, etc

Fig Wasps and Dogs

Differently knotted versions of each other -
fig wasps and dogs and Jesus Christ’s mother.
How do I speak to a long-distant lover
except to use inane baby talk as a cover?

If time’s an illusion, however persistent,
and all of his energy went on resistance,
I understand now how Gandhi was distant
and cold to his kids, then dead in an instant.

I’m feeling uneasy,
but don’t talk direct:
just show, never tell.
Shit, now I’m erect

from clinging on to some shit
that some past version wrote
like it had some deep meaning
before meaning broke.